Chased

Southampton
Meg had never liked playing the piano, though she reputedly did it well. Now that her coming out party was over, and no suitors had begun showing up because they felt it was a waste of time, she decided practicing piano could possibly keep her mind off of what was—or was not—happening. After all, the purpose of coming out was telling the world she had learned everything she’d ever need to know. So why keep up the pretenses of studying with a governess who wasn’t any more qualified to give instruction than Meg herself?
Her mother had agreed and sent Ms. Cunningham off just a week after Meg’s ball. The event had been a lovely affair, though crowded. Her house wasn’t made to hold so many people, and even though the crowd wasn’t what it might have been if her uncle hadn’t soiled their reputation, there were still nearly a hundred people present.
Meg honestly didn’t care, though. None of it mattered, and the more she dwelt on the fact that none of the gentlemen who had asked her to dance or had looked at her longingly would ever drop his card at the door, the more disheartened she became. Her mother had insisted that she write Charlie back and say she would not meet him in person until after they were engaged—which made little or no sense to her—and when his father had attempted to contact her mother to see if they could make the formal announcement, she had put him off again.
Her mother either had something even more vile up her sleeve than even Meg could imagine, or she honestly had lost her mind.
She was willing to bet on the second.
As she sat plunking the keys, she heard the front door open, and since she wasn’t expecting her mother back for an hour or so and the servants were all busy in the kitchen, she decided she had better go see who it was.
Pushing the bench under the piano, she approached the foyer. She could smell the alcohol before she even rounded the corner, and she froze in her tracks, hoping he wouldn’t notice her and she could sneak away.
“Mary Margaret, is that you?” Uncle Bertram called, his speech slurred.
Her first instinct was to try to do an impression of Tessa or one of the other girls, but before she could say anything at all, he was standing in the doorway before her. “Yes, Uncle,” she said, hoping the fear wasn’t still evident in her voice. She’d be seventeen later that year and he still evoked a terror in her the same way he had that first night he’d forced himself into her room a decade ago.
“Seen the paper have you?” he asked thrusting it at her, losing his balance and nearly falling as he did so.
She took it, wondering what in the world could possibly be in the paper that would bring him home drunk in the middle of the day, hoping it wasn’t another scandal that might embarrass her, too. She didn’t see it at first, but then, on the bottom of the front page, in the portion that usually highlighted society news, she saw what he was referring to. “Ashton, Westmoreland to Marry,” she read aloud.
“Yep, that’s the one. Keep reading,” Bertram ordered, stumbling backward.
“Mr. John Ashton of New York City announced earlier this week that his son, Charles, 19, will marry Miss Mary Margaret Westmoreland, 16, of Southampton, daughter of the late Henry Westmoreland and Mildred Truesdale Westmoreland. Though no date has been set yet, Mrs. Westmoreland reports that her daughter is beside herself with joy over what will surely be a marriage founded on wedded bliss.” Meg wasn’t sure if she should be more outraged at the announcement appearing in the papers before she was aware that the engagement had taken place or the fact that the paper had written about her life as if it were a sappy romance novel.
“She’s done it now,” Bertram shouted, swaying. “She thinks she can do whatever she wants, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
Meg could only assume he was talking about her mother, and while she was confused because she had been under the impression that he wanted her to marry Charlie, she didn’t dare ask why.
“This is my company,” he spat, continuing to slur his speech. “My company. My house. My money!”
Seeing that he was growing angrier and out of control, Meg took a step backward toward the stairs. He looked up at her as if he just realized she was in the same room. “And you’re mine, too,” he said, his eyes narrowing in on her. Just as she placed her foot on the bottom stair, he lurched for her, knocking her off balance. She fell hard, onto the uneven surface of the stairs, her uncle on top of her.
Meg began to panic. The weight of him on top of her brought back memories she had worked so hard to force into the deepest crevices of her mind. She could feel his hands begin to crawl up her body, but this time she knew she could fight him off, could get away. “No!” she shouted, and as he reached up with one hand, she kicked him, hard. He fell backward, taking some of his weight off of her, and she took off up the stairs as fast as she could.
Her body ached from the fall, and with tears streaming down her face, she was having trouble with her footing. She slipped, and as she went down hard on her right knee, her left leg went flailing behind her. It was enough. He grabbed her ankle and began to pull himself up toward her. Meg began to kick and scream, but despite his inebriation, her uncle seemed much stronger than her. Just as he regained his grip on her, a voice called out from the adjoining parlor, “Miss Mary Margaret, are you all right?”
Knowing that Tessa was on her way into the room must have been enough to startle him. He let go of her, and Meg scrambled to her feet, fixing her gown, just as Tessa entered the foyer. “Goodness, what happened?” the servant asked, seeing Bertram still sprawled on the stairs.
“Uncle Bertram… fell,” Meg stuttered. “I think he’s all right, but I’m not certain.”
“Oh, my,” Tessa said, rushing over to see if he was okay. He was starting to pull himself to his feet, and once she saw that he was all right, the servant returned her gaze to Meg, who was still standing a few steps up. “Did you fall as well?”
“I was… trying to help him,” she replied. “I think we’re all right.”
Tessa’s stare told Meg that she wasn’t quite buying the story, but she could see no reason to get Tessa involved in the situation. She’d gotten enough women hurt over her situation in the past. There was no reason to do it again now. “Well, so long as you’re both unharmed.”
“Yes,” Meg, stammered. “Yes, thank you, Tessa.”
Tessa picked up the newspaper off the floor and handed it to her uncle, and as she began to ask if there was anything he needed, Meg retreated to her room, the irony of hiding from the monster in her room not lost on her.
Once she was seated on her bed, she began to take some deep breaths and felt better. Though she knew she’d have to worry about attacks again that evening, and perhaps every evening until she left Southampton, she felt relatively safe for the moment. Thank goodness that was over.
Except it wasn’t.
“Meg? Is everything all right? I was outside, and I thought I heard you scream.”
It was Kelly, and one look at the concern in her face and Meg couldn’t hold back the tears any more. Ten years’ worth of pent up anguish came flooding out. Kelly rushed to her side, wrapping her arms around her, hushing her, reassuring her everything was all right.
Even if she’d wanted to, Meg couldn’t have managed to tell Kelly what had happened, what had been happening. She didn’t have to, however. A few minutes into Meg’s break down, Kelly pushed her back so that she could look her in the face. “Meg?” she began, “What’s happened? Has someone hurt you?”
Meg couldn’t speak, so she shook her head “no” furiously, afraid that Kelly might do something they would both regret if she knew the truth.
Suddenly, she did.
“It’s your uncle isn’t it?” she asked, her face turning almost as fiery red as her hair. “Oh, my God! That bastard!”
“No, Kelly,” Meg cried out. “Please, calm down.”
“Calm down? Calm down! All these years—he’s been hurting you, the way he did those other little girls, hasn’t he? That son of a bitch!”
Before Meg could stop her, Kelly was up and flying out of her room. She screamed after her to stop, but Kelly was infuriated, and even if Meg hadn’t been sore from the fall and blinded by her tears, she wouldn’t have been able to keep up. A few moments later, she heard Kelly yelling from the parlor, and then her uncle shouting back. Meg hurried to the staircase, hoping she could stop him before he hurt her friend, but a few seconds later, she heard the loud, unmistakable thunk of fist hitting bone, and Kelly began to scream.
Meg rushed down the stairs in time to see her uncle rushing out the front door as quickly as a drunkard could go. She ran into the parlor and found Kelly lying on the floor, her hands grasping her face.
“Oh, my God! What did he do?”
Kelly said nothing, only stared at her as blood gushed through her fingers. As Tessa came in, Meg realized her face wasn’t the only place that was bleeding and shouted, “Get the doctor!”